Familj
by storyspinners
Summary: In which Denmark tries to look after a baby Iceland; push Sweden's buttons; and make Finland the best damn birthday cake he's ever had.


_Sprøjt_- squirt: Danish

_Ís_- Ice: Danish, Swedish, Icelandic, and Norwegian (aww poor Finland)

* * *

**Lullabies Denmark Style**

"I'm telling ya, Norge, this kid's evil. Like a little devil child, secretly plotting our destruction!" Denmark looked completely mad, randomly waving his arms in all directions, with eyes nearly pulled out of their sockets.

Norway shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly, before heading toward the front door.

"Wait! You can't just leave me here with him!"

Turning on his heel to face the Dane, and with a look somewhere between warning, hatred, and boredom, that only he could achieve; Norway spoke, "He is my little brother and you are going to stay here, watch him, and make sure nothing happens while I'm gone."

And that was it. No threat, no "or else", nothing. And yet he had the feeling there was no getting out of this. Great, just fantastic, this would not end well.

XX

"_Ís... Ís?"_ Where was the little squirt?

Oh no... He _lost_ him! Not good, so not good Norway was gonna kill him. Denmark's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, as he stood abandoning his search through the kitchen cabinets.

Okay no need to panic, he thought dryly, I'll just... well I could always, um... there's ah. Crud. He was in trouble, yep definitely screwed.

The Dane sighed, trudging upstairs for one last sweep over the rooms. This sucked. What was he supposed to do now? Aside from the fact that Norway would most likely _never _speak to him again for losing his brother, Denmark actually missed the kid. Sure he was kinda creepy, in times when he just stared at you, but he was just a child and Denmark felt important being trusted to watch him and...

Okay so he liked the little sprøjt, shut it. He added to Denmark's overall awesome, that's all.

The former Viking stopped, a hand scrubbing his face, as he let out a defeated sigh. About to call it quits and return to the living room to wait him out, Denmark jumped when he heard an almost silent sob coming from his bedroom. Moving cautiously and slowly, he pushed the door open to see a small barely shaking blob under the blankets of his bed. Iceland's mop of white hair stuck out over the covers, giving away his identity.

Denmark didn't move at first, he was never really good with tears. Gathering up the courage to cross the room, he flopped unceremoniously onto the king sized bed.

The child froze. A soft sniffle broke the silence.

Without knowing exactly why, Denmark patted the younger in an attempt at a comforting gesture as he spoke, saying the first thing he could think of.

_Når vi sejler op og ned,  
ser vi fisken svømme.  
__Ære, være, du er min.  
__Danmark, Danmark, hvor vi elsker dig._

He half-sang the story with a huge grin, ad-libbing only the most necessary parts. After the first verse, Ari moved; head peeking out from under the covers to look at the Dane with his impossibly wide violet eyes.

_Når vi sejler op og ned,  
ser vi fisken svømme.  
Ære, være, du er min  
Sve, Sve, hvor vi hader dig._

By the time Denmark finished the rhyme he had the other smiling and happily enwrapped in the song.

Breakfast was... interesting the next morning. Iceland practically danced around the kitchen a very new occurrence for him, and singing "_Sve, Sve, hvor vi hader dig!_" at the top of his lungs. It was brilliant and had them all in stitches.

Well, maybe not _all_ of them.

The End.

* * *

**Little Saint Nick **

Four in the morning. 4 A.M! And it was this day that he was going to kill Denmark.

Norway slowly trudged down the stairs, his mind already formulating ways to rid himself of the Dane without hurting too many innocents. The infuriating, sleep-stealing noise was coming from the kitchen where Denmark was most likely making himself something to feed that black hole he called a stomach. Honestly, was it so hard to make a mess in his own house? And Norway had just gone food shopping yesterday. Then again that was probably why the other blonde was here to begin with.

"Look, Denmark, eat all my food again and I sw-" he paused mid-sentence; rubbing sleep from his eyes to be sure he was seeing this correctly.

That was not Denmark… not even close.

"Sweden…?"

The hulking nation didn't respond, though Norway hadn't expected him to. Clad in Denmark's own cooking apron, the Swede worked about the kitchen looking in random cupboards as he went. The sight of him wasn't what bothered Norway so much as, how the hell did he get in his house?

"Ahem," Norway cleared his throat, "Sweden, sorry but, what are you doing?"

"M'king a cake," was his curt reply.

Right, of course. What else would someone be doing at four a.m.?

"'t's Finland's birthday,"

Oh… _oh _well that solved the cake issue. But still Norway was left with quite a few questions. For example, "Yes, but why are you baking it in my house?"

Sweden gave him a serious look that was only lessened somewhat by the large amount of flour he had covering his face. Silence followed and Norway decided it was probably better to help with the cake making, seeing as it was his house and he was awake already anyway. That plan worked for about ten seconds, before one of them dropped a large cake pan, hitting the floor with a thud that echoed throughout the room. Unfortunately, this was followed by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and a very loud, "Noooorge!"

Denmark really was too cheerful in the morning, despite the early hour. The Dane's excitement, however; was crushed the moment he saw Sweden in the kitchen along with Norway.

"What the-" he cut off, "how the hell did you get in Norge's house? And is that my _apron_?" Denmark did not seem happy to say the least. Eyes constantly drifting between the other two nations before leveling an accusatory glare at Norway.

"Denmark, relax," Norway replied his calm demeanor fully in place, "It's Finland's birthday today, he was just making a cake."

"In your house? Doesn't he have a kitchen of his own?"

The Norwegian resisted the urge to say the same about the Dane, "Obviously Finland would think to look for him there first," he dead-panned instead. Denmark's face morphed into a perfect 'oh' expression and he flashed a thumbs up that looked a little too American for Norway's liking.

"Alright I'm in," Denmark stated, proudly puffing out his chest, "And take off my apron!" Without a second thought Sweden flicked a handful of flour into the Dane's face, pasting it a sickly white color. Norway jumped, placing himself in between the two to stop them from doing anything too stupid, and asked, "Hey, where's Iceland? I haven't seen him," completely forgetting the fact that it was way too early for his brother to even be awake yet.

"W'th Finland," Sweden, who was no longer working on the cake, supplied. "He's watching him… it's a s'rprize…" Sweden looked a little sheepish as he turned away from the other two blondes.

The two remaining Nordics sported identical looks of confusion.

XX

Finland awoke with a stretch and groggily rubbed the sleep form his eyes. He jumped slightly when his gaze landed on a very impassive Iceland, staring at him from across the bedroom.

"Iceland...?"

A tilt of Iceland's head was all the response he earned. Finland asked quitely, "Why are you in my bedroom?"

A shrug, "Hanging out."

"By watching me?" Finland asked, his voice rising a little in disbelief.

"Exactly."

XX

Denmark's expression softened minutely, for Finland's sake of course, you know the little guy was too awesome not to have a great birthday. "Okay then, let's get to work!"

The End.

* * *

**Crikey**

"Da dum da da da dum dum, Da dum da da da Danmark…"

"The awesome and fearsome Denmark stalks his unwary prey, waiting for the kill. The creature is crafty, shifty, and dangerous, with razor sharp claws and a thick, impenetrable hide. It's massive and gruesome, horribly disfigured by many a battle…"

Denmark dove behind the couch, pulling off a rather impressive tuck-and-roll before ending back in a crouching position.

"Our leader's only hope of survival is to slay the monster in its sleep. A task only bestowed on the most skilled of fighters…"

A pause.

The Dane lunged, hurdling the couch and his unsuspecting target. The wooden coffee table on the other side did not far well throughout the whole ordeal. Letting out a wine of protest it buckled and crashed to the floor.

Sweden woke with a start, sitting up abruptly in the couch.

"D'nmark!" he leveled a glare at the other as Denmark picked up a broken table leg, preparing for battle.

"The beast, he awakes!"

Norway sniggered later when Denmark walked by with a black eye.

The End.

* * *

**Notes: **

Danish Nursery Rhyme:

When we sail up and down,  
We see the fish swim.  
Glory, be, you are mine,  
Denmark, Denmark, we love you.

When we sail up and down,  
We see the fish swim.  
Glory, be, you are mine,  
Sweden, Sweden, we hate you.

Okay so technically 'Sverige' is Sweden, but the nickname was cooler, and more Denmark-ish! (Also this is a very rough translation, so please let me know if anything needs correcting!)

The title 'Little Saint Nick' stems from the fact that St. Nickolas' feast day is Dec. 6, the same day as Finland's Independence Day! I find it ironic because of Finland's obvious love for Christmas.

"Da dum da da da dum dum, Da dum da da da Danmark…" – Was taken from the song 'Danmark Mandark' by Nephew. There is an Amazing video of Denmark to this song by **Skadipirate **on YouTube, that was the inspiration for the drabble.


End file.
